


Carol Seducing Maria (The Suave Version)

by queercapwriting (queergirlwriting)



Series: Where's Your Head At? [17]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, because what my wife asks for, but smut nonetheless, carol seduces maria, like soft?, my wife receives, sooo it smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queergirlwriting/pseuds/queercapwriting
Summary: prompt from my wife: “Neither of these useless lesbians know how to make the first move in restarting their relationship when Carol comes back from Hala. So, naturally, Carol seduces Maria.”My clarifying question: “Do you want her to be suave or a disaster about seducing her?”Her, pffting: “Suave, obviously.”





	Carol Seducing Maria (The Suave Version)

She’s been sleeping on the couch.

Not because Maria hasn’t invited her to share their old bed. She has. But not romantically. Not… sexually.

Because if Carol knows anything after all these years, she knows Maria.

And she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that in this context, Maria won’t make the first move.

Because when she first got back to Earth, she had flashes of this woman in her head.

When she first laid eyes on her again, and could barely keep her eyes off her, she felt something. Something electric, something burning hotter in her than her fists ever even could.

But she couldn’t remember. She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know.

But she did know, more certain than anything, that Maria would never tell her everything about what they had been. To each other.

Because if Carol’s gut was right - if that fire in the pit of her stomach every time Maria’s eyes met hers was any indication - then she and Maria had been much more than best friends six years ago.

But since she couldn’t remember, not exactly, not explicitly, Maria wouldn’t tell her.

Because she wouldn’t want to manipulate her, wouldn’t want to overwhelm her, wouldn’t want to pile even more pressure onto the shitstorm of pressure and pain and pleasure that had been her return to Earth.

So Maria was warm, and she was inviting, but she wasn’t romantic. She wasn’t sexual. So much so that Carol started to think that her suspicions had to be wrong.

Until she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they weren’t. 

Until she dreamed - dreams seemed to be where and when her memories unlocked most effectively - long and hot memories of Maria’s body underneath hers, naked and writhing and begging; of long night drives in Carol’s Mustang that ended with star-gazing and orgasms in the back seat; of even longer nights, cuddled together and holding her, kissing her, soft and sweet and casually intimate.

She dreamed, and she remembered.

But she had no idea how to tell Maria.

Because she tried to stammer out questions, but Maria was as good at dodging them as she was at dodging enemy fire in a dogfight.

And, Carol imagined, her questions weren’t the most coherent. Weren’t the most smooth.

Maybe, to make it clear to Maria that she remembered, she had to be smooth. Not stumbling around, searching for answers, because then Maria would be afraid to say too much, make Carol feel locked into something, locked into her.

Which, honestly, didn’t sound bad at all to Carol.

But she loved Maria even more for being concerned.

So she put in a call to Talos.

And she helped Lieutenant Trouble pack an overnight bag.

And she called Fury for some frantic advice about cooking.

She nearly blew up the kitchen by the time Maria got back, but that was okay; the smoke was mostly gone by then, and Carol knew beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly how good she looked.

Jeans tighter than sin, and one of Maria’s old white button-ups to match. Air Force belt buckle.

Hair down, wavy and tucked just so behind her ears.

“I tried to make dinner,” she announced as Maria stepped into the kitchen. Their kitchen. 

She watched Maria gulp as she took in Carol’s outfit, her tone, her voice that was a few octaves lower than it usually was.

She bit her lower lip, and she watched Maria notice.

She loved the things Maria noticed.

God, she wanted to make her notice so much tonight.

“I can smell that,” Maria joked, because the woman was unflappable. Another thing Carol loved.

“Monica’s sleeping over with Talos and the family,” Carol said next, to get that bit of information out of the way, because she needed Maria to understand that the house was theirs, and every surface in it was long-underused.

She stepped toward her with fire in her eyes and in her step, and Maria didn’t back away.

Maria never backed away.

Something else to add to the list.

“How come?” Maria asked, her voice low and wrecked. Like she could taste the raw need on Carol’s face.

“Thought we could use some us time,” Carol came to a halt a foot or two in front of Maria - too, too far away, but she had to make sure this was something Maria wanted, that the reason she’d been reticent to start again had been for Carol’s sake, not because it was something she’d rather forget - and leaned on the kitchen counter.

She mentally high-fived herself for leaning in a way that made Maria gulp - again - without stumbling or tripping over herself.

“That so?” Maria asked, uncharacteristically lost for words.

Carol cocked her head and narrowed her eyes slightly.

“You know, I missed you,” she said, meaning every word. “I couldn’t remember, but I always knew anyway. That I missed you. Now that I’m back here, back with you. It’s like this hole inside me I never knew how to fill is just… gone. Like I’m complete again.”

“You’re complete all on your own, Carol,” Maria reminded her, but Carol could swear her eyes had dropped - if only for an instant - to her lips.

“Oh, I know. But let me be romantic for a minute.”

“Is that what’s happening? You’re being romantic?”

Carol scoffed, but it was soft and confident and flirty. She took a small step forward.

“Only if you want me to be.”

“What brought this on?”

“Remembering you.”

They took a step, a small step, with each sentence, each declaration, so now they were inches from each other’s bodies, each other’s mouths.

And Maria’s eyes were definitely tracking down to Carol’s lips, now.

“Remembering what, exactly?” Maria had to know, and Carol tilted her head in a question.

Maria nodded almost imperceptibly, and Carol’s lips closed in on hers.

“This,” she murmured into Maria’s mouth. “Remembering this. With you.”

It was new and it was old; it was familiar and it was electric.

Maria sighed into Carol’s mouth but her hands were steady as they found Carol’s waist. Carol’s rapidly-warming hands trembled with restraint as she ran them up Maria’s bare arms.

“You won’t hurt me,” Maria murmured, transferring her lips from Carol’s mouth down her jawline to her neck, because Carol wasn’t the only one who remembered.

“I can’t know that,” Carol shivered, and Maria pulled back slightly.

Carol’s body keened with the loss.

“You remember this? Us,” Maria clarified, her voice steady even as her pupils dilated.

“Everything, I think,” Carol breathed, her body needing Maria’s clothes off, her fear needing Maria to keep talking.

“Then you’ll remember that I trusted you then. With anything. With everything. And I trust you now, fire-shooting hands and all.”

“What if I -”

“What if you shut up and take me to bed?” Maria interrupted, her tone amused but her eyes all the comfort Carol needed.

“What if I took you to bed, indeed,” Carol murmured, picking Maria up without warning and sinking into trusting herself with her body.

It was easier than she’d expected it to be.

And it was so much sexier than she ever could have remembered.

The way Maria licked and nipped a map down her throat to the buttons of her collared shirt. The way she got impatient and just tugged.

The way her entire body writhed when Carol laid her down on her bed - their bed - and slipped her tongue into her mouth, straddling her hips and tracing her body with her hands.

The way Maria’s eyes darkened when she - finally - solved the mystery of Carol’s simple button down, taking in the smooth, scarred skin of her torso and the way she wore nothing under that button down except a black bra.

The way Maria’s lips and tongue worked over all the new scars she’d gotten over the years, and the way Maria flipped her over, quick and efficient and unexpected, to finish undressing her.

“Fuck,” she found herself moaning when Maria’s hand found its way beneath her legs, when Maria locked eyes with her to make sure this was what she wanted.

When she slipped her own hand between Maria’s legs, bringing her thigh up to give extra pressure, and Maria could do nothing but drop her face into Carol’s chest and whine for more.

They slipped into each other deep and slow, shifting every so often to make sure they both had optimal angles, to make sure Carol could bite down on Maria’s shoulder the way she remembered her girlfriend had loved.

“Maria, Maria, Maria, Maria,” she murmured like it was a prayer, because, she realized, it was.

And when her free hand found Maria’s hardened nipple begging for attention, and their eyes locked and Maria pressured her palm down, hard, on Carol’s clit in the way that had always made her come undone, both of them let tears slip out of their eyes as they held each other’s body and each other’s gaze, because nothing had been this perfect in six long years.

Maria dipped her head to suck on that sensitive spot on Carol’s neck that she’d spent years dreaming about, and Carol arched her hips up with reckless abandon that made them both forget everything else in all the galaxies.

They bruised each other’s lips with their eagerness to kiss through their shared orgasm, their foreheads pressed together as they shuddered and moaned and rode each other’s hands on their way back down to Earth.

The best - and most long overdue - flight either of them had ever been on.


End file.
